


Splinters

by HeroMaggie



Series: Cats and Healers [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: AU, Circle Mage Anders, Comfort, M/M, Shapeshifting, becoming friends, cat!anders, small amount of Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 10:57:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6076758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeroMaggie/pseuds/HeroMaggie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A daring escape from the Gallows lands Circle Mage Anders as Fenris' guest, only Fenris thinks Anders is a cat - not a mage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Splinters

**Author's Note:**

> Taken from a prompt on Tumblr:
> 
> iszebille said:  
> Also: Fenders Prompt: Splinters

Anders’ breath burned in his lungs as he ran.

“Stop! Apostate! Maleficar!”

Anders dodged a small group of Hightown women, slid behind a stall, and waited. The Templars skidded to a stop, heads turning to look for him. He inhaled and swallowed, gathering himself. Without waiting, he cast a spell - one that slid over him like a blanket. The templar helmets came up at that, centering on his location, but Anders was already moving.

He streaked out from behind the stall and skidded around the next corner. He could hear the Templars tearing through the stall, the stall owner’s yelling blending with breaking glass. Anders only had a minute before they realized he wasn’t there. In that minute, he saw the abandoned mansion.

One front window was broken, and he ran towards it, leaping up and through the crack in the glass. The break wasn’t as big as he had been expecting and pain flared in his paw. Then he was down and padding quickly and quietly through what looked to be an abandoned sitting room. A tall chair stood in the corner, and he slid under it and flattened himself to the floor.

Not more than five minutes later there was banging on the front door and then the sounds of feet pattering down stairs. Anders’ ears twitched at that - the realization that this wasn’t an abandoned house making him pant softly. There was talking going on now - Cullen, that twat of a Knight-Captain, could be heard followed by the soft growls of this house’s inhabitant.

Finally, after what seemed like an age, there was a yell. “We know you’re somewhere, Anders. This time it won’t be solitary or the whip. This time it’s the brand. Save us all the trouble and come out.”

Anders rolled his eyes at the words and mentally gave the Knight-Captain a rude gesture. A moment later the front door slammed shut. The sound of soft feet shushing over damaged floor boards turned towards the sitting room, and Anders slunk further back under the chair, wincing at the pain in his front paw.

The feet stopped in front of the chair - the skin dark and covered in swirling markings that curled along the top of the feet and ended at both big toes. Anders twitched his whiskers in confusion and curiosity at the markings. Slowly, a face came into view - more dark skin, big green eyes, a fall of white hair. The elf was beautiful and Anders, unthinkingly, began to purr.

“A cat. Those templars are becoming more embarrassing by the year,” the elf said.

Anders yowled in agreement.

“You are injured. Come here.” The elf snapped his fingers.

Anders hesitated, his purring growing louder as it became more self-soothing than friendly. He scooted further back, quivering.

“ _Tchk_ , I will not hurt you. Come here,” the elf rumbled, putting out a hand. Anders sniffed at the fingers and eased forward.

The elf grabbed Anders by the scruff and pulled him out before he knew what was happening. Anders yowled and flailed, and his claws raked over the elf’s chin. He was shaken in response.

“You will cease this behavior. I will not hurt you,” the elf said.

Anders let himself go limp, eyeing the elf holding him. He had some sort of tattoo that started at his chin. Not thinking, Anders reached out with his good paw and pawed lightly over the tattoos. Electricity streaked up his paw and he _mrrped_ in confusion.

Lyrium. The lines were pure lyrium. Anders’ eyes met the elf’s and what he saw had him relaxing. The elf’s eyes were wide and confused. Anders’ pawed at the elf again and this time he was clutched to a thin chest.

“You are bleeding. Come, let us get you bandaged and then go see Hawke.” The elf’s voice rumbled through Anders and he purred back in response. He kept purring as they headed upstairs and into a room that was marginally cleaner.

The elf placed him on a table and took a seat. Anders watched him warily before holding out his injured paw. “You have a large splinter of glass in your paw,” the elf said. “I have a healing potion, but I must pull the splinter out first. You will not claw me.”

Anders twitched one ear, the one that was tattered, and let out a quiet meow. Lightning fast, the elf grabbed his paw and pulled out the splinter. A sharp pain sliced up Anders’ leg and he let out a yowl before he could stop himself. The elf grunted and let him go, patting at his head.

“Now that healing potion,” the elf muttered. He rifled in a bag and pulled out a bottle, opening it. He took Anders’ paw again and poured some of the potion over the wound. Elfroot wafted from the potion, a soothing smell that had Anders purring again.

Within moments, his paw was healed.

“It is too bad I cannot use this on your scars. Who would whip a cat?” Fenris’ fingers brushed over Anders’ sides and traced the old scars that marred his fur. “A bent tail, a torn ear, marks that look like a whipping - you have been abused.”

Anders _mrowed_ at that. He flicked his ear again and then carefully stood, moving forward enough to bump his forehead against the elf’s. Before he could change his mind, he licked the tip of the elf’s nose. The elf let out a chuckle, eyes widening in what looked to be surprise. Anders licked the elf again, pleased that he could bring a smile to the elf’s face.

“I should take you to Hawke. I do not know how to keep a pet.” The words were said in a forlorn tone. “But she has a dog, Snots. Surely she will know how to keep a cat as well.”

Anders twitched his nose at the word ‘dog’, but said nothing. He allowed himself to be scooped up and carried back down the stairs.

He was carried across Hightown nestled against the elf. After a flight of stairs, Anders wiggled up onto the elf’s shoulder to look around. There were no templars, no Chantry sisters, no guardsmen looking for him. He relaxed and leaned up to sniff at the elf’s ear, earning a surprised chuckle for his trouble.

“Stop that. Behave.”

Anders gave the catty equivalent to a grin and sniffed at the ear again, this time licking over the lobe with his rough tongue. The elf snorted softly and squeezed his side.

“You are not behaving, Cat.”

Anders chuffed and began to knead the elf’s shoulder. He kept kneading until they reached a door set in an ivy-covered wall. The elf knocked at the door and waited, petting Anders on and off until the door was answered by a dwarf.

“Master Fenris and a feline guest. Well, come in. I can’t promise you peace and quiet. Snots was having a bath, you see, and you know the Mistress. She likes to do it herself. Poor Orana is still cleaning soap from the chandelier.” The dwarf prattled as he led them through an archway, a large foyer, and into a comfortable sitting room. “I’ll go get her.”

Anders squirmed against Fenris, wondering who this Hawke was. He was answered by a loud howl and a mabari bounding into the room.

Fenris held out his hands, which allowed Anders to leap onto the back of a nearby chair. Snots ignored Fenris in favor of snuffling up at Anders, giving a low growl that Anders answered with a growl of his own and a swipe of his claws.

“Fenris, why is there a cat in my house?” A woman with short black hair and vivid blue eyes had walked into the room and was staring at Anders in consternation. “If he claws Snots, I’ll be pissy.”

“If he claws Snots, the dog will have deserved it,” Fenris said gruffly. “I found him in my mansion. He was injured. I brought him to you.”

“Why? I don’t even like cats that much. They ignore you, sit on your head, and claw your furniture.”

Anders looked down at his claws buried in the back of the chair and quickly sheathed them. Snots was still snuffling up at him, and he gave a sigh and leapt down. He took a seat and eyed the dog closely, watching as Snots bounded up to him with enthusiasm. When Snots was within reach, Anders lifted his paw and slapped Snots on the nose. Snots shook his head, lowered himself into a playful bow, and wiggled his stubby tail.

“They are best friends. Good. I shall be leaving, then.” Fenris gave Hawke a tight smile. She reached out and planted one hand against his chest.

“Oh no you don’t. He’s your cat.”

“I cannot have a pet, Hawke. I am a slave.”

“Bollocks. You aren’t a slave, and you know it. We killed that magister. You’re free.”

“What will I do with a cat?”

“I don’t know. Play with him? Hug him? Let him clean out the rats?” Anders glanced up at the word ‘rats’ and sneezed. “Well, huh. Maybe feed him? He’s awfully skinny and looks like he’s been abused.”

Fenris sighed. “So you will not be taking the cat? What about Merrill?”

Anders stood and sauntered over to Fenris, curling around his ankles. He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted to stay with the elf. Maybe it was the decrepit mansion. Maybe it was the sudden knowledge that Fenris had been a slave. Whatever it was, Anders felt safe around Fenris and wasn’t willing to be just handed over.

“I think you have your answer there.”

Fenris grumbled and picked Anders up. Anders purred in response, cuddling against the elf’s thin chest. “Fine. We shall head home then.” Anders kept the purring up until they were back at Fenris’ disheveled mansion.

***

The truth was that Anders hadn’t planned on sticking around Fenris’ mansion past that first night. He certainly hadn’t planned on sticking around for a month. He had been lucky during this escape, a feat only managed because he had bribed several templars who were part of the nebulous Mage Underground. The Underground would never have outright helped him; he was too high profile of a mage for that. No, Anders’ reputation as a troublemaker and runner made him magebane to the entire Underground.

But that didn’t mean the Underground would leave him in the lurch if he wanted to risk his own skin. A few bribes, mainly using his body and healing abilities, and some sweet words and his phylactery had been pulled. He’d love to say this was a sure fire way to keep the templars off his back, but that had been his third phylactery. At this point, he was shocked they didn’t keep multiples of them on hand.

The plan had been simple. Get his phylactery. Destroy it. Flee to Cumberland. Take a ship to Ferelden. Get lost in the mud. End of the story. Simple really. A better option than his last plan - which had been derailed by a Qunari invasion. Or the one before that - which had ended when a squall damaged all of the ships in Kirkwall. Or the one before that - when the Blight had hit and they had gained some new templars from Ferelden. Like that prissy Knight-Captain Cullen.

Anders shook his head and focused on grooming his paw. The upside was that the Order lacked his phylactery. The downside was that he was stuck as a cat in a mansion that was sort-of owned by one very grumpy elf. A very grumpy elf that hated mages and magic.

Over the past month, Anders had come to understand that Fenris was a former slave who hated magisters and had a tendency to confuse magisters with all mages. Anders’ tail flicked at that. The crooked end slapped against the bed and showed the discontent roiling through him.

And he knew all of this because Fenris was, to Anders’ complete amusement, a talkative drunk. He’d drink bottle after bottle of wine and then chatter at Anders, who had gained the name ‘Felix’, as if Anders was a friend. And Anders supposed that, in a way, he was.

He was there when the elf woke from nightmares, was there when the elf staggered home injured, was there when that lady, Hawke, came by to drag him back out to do a job. Anders was there for every break down, every story, every brooding glare at the fireplace.

And the truth, the truth that had Anders chewing at one nail, was that Anders was rather fond of the brooding elf. He had to leave, true. He couldn’t stay forever, no matter how much he enjoyed lazing around in bed. Still...

He looked up as Fenris dragged himself through the door. Blood-soaked bandages were wrapped tightly around his upper left arm. There was a cut on his cheek. He had a black eye. Anders meowed in concern.

“You should see the other guy,” Fenris rasped. “I am fine, Felix. Stop pawing.”

Anders _harrumphed_ and narrowed his eyes as if to point out he wasn’t close enough to paw.

“Venhedis, that look. I have a healing potion. I just need to drink it and sleep. Stop nagging,” Fenris groused while putting away his sword and slowly pulling off his armor.

Anders put his head down on his paws and watched as Fenris wiggled his way out his tunic. He let out a rather loud purr at the sight of Fenris’ muscled shoulders and chest, covering his face with one paw in embarrassment.

Fenris ignored him in favor of sprawling on the bed. Anders daintily stepped over his legs and curled up under his armpit, purring for all he was worth. Fenris gave a soft chuckle, rusty in the quiet room. “You are my best friend. Is that strange?”

Anders cocked his head and _mrrped_.

“You are a cat. A mangy cat. And yet I see intelligence in your eyes.” Fenris shifted so he could roll over, curling around Anders. “It was bad today. There was a mage. I should have...kaffas...I should wish her dead. And yet…” Fenris dug his fingers into Anders’ fur.

“She was an abomination. Demon spawn blood mage. And yet...and yet there were children…”

Anders began to groom Fenris’ chin. He didn’t know how to tell the elf that this was common. That mages had long given up hope of ever having families. He wondered if these were her children.

“She had come from Ferelden during the Blight with the children. All of them orphans. One of them looked...he looked elf-blooded.” Fenris’ voice cracked. “She went to the Circle and they did nothing. How am I to hate her?”

Anders sighed, the sound turning into a huff that made his whiskers shiver.

“I had the killing blow. It brought me no joy.” Fenris curled up tighter. “Hawke...she…”

Anders wriggled out of Fenris’ arms so that he could gently head butt the elf. Fenris snorted. “I should sleep then?”

Anders’ response was to groom his nose.

“Fine.” Fenris touched Anders’ torn ear. “I am glad you are here, Felix. I do not know how to feel about today, but I am glad that you are with me.”

***

Fenris was a light sleeper. Anders had noticed that the first night he slept in the elf’s bed. He had inadvertently twitched his tail too close to Fenris’ ear and had woken him up. The little noises made by a house settling didn’t wake him, but the shush of boots under the window did.

So when Anders padded out to the hallway and changed back to his human form, he did it as quietly as possible. Swallowing down the ragged shards of fear clogging his throat, Anders tiptoed back into the bedroom and looked at Fenris. Really looked at him. Closely. Carefully. There were cuts on his chest and arms - places that a spell had been able to grab hold. Something cast by a blood mage, something designed to hurt and pull the pain out to be used as power. The skin around one eye was darkly bruised and swollen. The bandages on Fenris’ arm were still blood soaked.

Anders didn’t dare sit on the bed. Instead, he knelt down and brushed his hand just over the skin of Fenris’ arm. Concentrating, he sent a wave of healing out. Fenris let out a little sound as the magic washed over him - a little moan of pleasure/pain that had Anders stiffening - and then he relaxed back into quiet sleep.

Anders smiled at that, stood, and made his way back out to the hallway. A pulse of magic and there was a tabby instead of a man. Anders stretched and shook his back left paw. Settled, he crept back into the room and jumped up on the bed, snuggling down next to Fenris to wait for morning.

He had fallen asleep sometime between curling up and Fenris’ yelp. The yelp turned into cursing - vicious sounding words in Tevene that filled the air. Anders propped his face on his paws and listened to the sounds of each word; the foreign cadence was musical. It was quite possibly the prettiest sounding rant he had ever been privy to.

“Did you see who did this?” Fenris growled the question at Anders, who responded by rolling onto his back and purring.

“Of course that is your response. Some _mage_ snuck into my room and healed me.” Fenris stopped talking. “That...who would believe that?”

Anders stretched out one paw and snagged Fenris’ hand with it. He let his claws just prick Fenris’ skin, just enough to get his attention. Fenris hissed out a breath and began to pet Anders’ stomach.

“Do I thank them or rip their heart from their chest, Felix?” Fenris’ other hand was rubbing over where the deep gash should have been on his arm. “The healing was well done...but no, filthy magic touching me in my sleep...though magic hurts and…” Fenris growled again.

Anders watched with deep interest as Fenris stalked around the room, pulling on clothes and armor. His tail swished lazily as Fenris ate some bread. “I shall get you food tonight. I must go see Hawke. Perhaps the blood mage did something? I do not know. I will be back tonight, though.”

Anders responded with a short yowl and more purring. It seemed to please Fenris as he left looking less murderous.

Anders waited until he heard the front door slam shut. Then he counted to ten, leapt from the bed, and padded out to the stairs. Slowly, he slunk down the stairs and waited, watching the door. When there were no sounds or movement, he shifted and stretched, his neck giving off a dull pop. Glancing around at the ruined foyer, Anders started cataloguing the large pile of cleaning that needed to be done and then went off to see if there was a bucket and mop hiding away somewhere.

***

He spent hours scrubbing, dusting, and polishing furniture. In those hours he managed to clean the bedroom, bathing room, and the upstairs hallway. No corpses lined the landing, no mushrooms sprouted from the fraying runners. The bed linens had been changed out for ones that were old but clean. The dirty linens had been washed and put away. The fireplace scrubbed and the floor mopped.

Anders was covered in grime, cobwebs, and sweat. He took a quick bath, scrubbing himself and his clothing down. His clothes he hung up in a spare room - in a wardrobe that the elf probably wouldn’t look in. He changed into some slightly musty pants and tunic, brushed out his hair, and shifted back into cat form.

He had just climbed onto the bed when the front door opened and slammed shut. Quickly curling into a ball, he put his head on his paws and adopted a disinterested sleepy look, content to wait and see what Fenris’ reaction was.

It took Fenris until he reached the bedroom to realize something had changed. Instantly, his demeanor shifted from broody to on-edge. Fenris’ gaze darted around the room, noting every change. He stomped to the fireplace and slid one finger over the mantle, gaping at the lack of dust. He shot Anders a glare and then ran back to the door, throwing it open and peering down the hall.

“It is clean. All of it is clean.” Fenris’ voice was filled with disbelief. “It is one thing to wake up uninjured. It is another to find my...this...where are the corpses?”

Anders sneezed. He doubted Fenris would believe him if he said ‘burned to ash and then swept away’. Fenris turned to glare at him, and Anders adopted an innocent look.

“Do not give me that look. You allowed some stranger to clean.”

Anders rolled onto his back and stretched, tilting his head back in invitation. Fenris snorted but moved to sit on the bed and pet him. Anders’ let out a little sigh. Fenris cocked his head.

“You do not approve of me being upset, do you? Is that why you did nothing?”

Anders flopped onto his side and meowed in response. Fenris twitched his nose. “Was it Hawke’s doing? Varric’s?”

Anders _mrowed_ again, wiggling a bit when Fenris’ gauntlet caught on his fur.

“ _Hmph_. They were not from Tevinter? Not looking to take me back?” Fear clouded Fenris’ gaze, his hand stilling from the gentle scratching. “But then why would they clean?”

Anders _harrumphed_ and stood, worming his way onto Fenris’ lap. Once there, he nuzzled against Fenris’ chest and purred. He wished he could reassure Fenris, tell him what happened, but he was afraid.

Fenris lay back on the bed and sighed again. “I am glad you are unharmed, Felix. I would not wish to lose you.” The words were hesitant. “You mean much to me.”

Anders sprawled over Fenris’ stomach, nuzzling at his hip and tried to not think of how he wished he could just hug Fenris once, just once, and tell him that he was worth more than a broken down mansion and solitude.

***

Flour dotted Anders’ nose and he squinted at the recipe book he had found in a room just off the kitchen. He was attempting to bake tea cakes as a surprise for Fenris. Something sweet and delicious. The ingredients had been easy to purchase, especially since Fenris left his coin under his mattress. The recipe had been easy to follow. He poured the batter into the pan he had found in a drawer and popped the whole thing into the oven. That settled, he started cleaning up.

Two days of waiting for Fenris to decide to head back out had resulted in Anders making plans. When Hawke had shown up that morning with talk of a trip to Sundermount, Anders knew he would have the time to put his plans into effect.

Stew bubbled on the stove. There was a loaf of fresh bread that he had picked up from a local baker. The tea cakes were baking. He had found some apples on sale - pretty ones that reminded him of Ferelden. The apples were already upstairs. The stew was almost done and the little tea cakes would be done in twenty minutes.

Brushing his hands off on his borrowed leggings, Anders beamed. He was interrupted in mid-preen by the sound of the front door opening. Fenris was home early, and it sounded like he had company.

Anders panicked and let his spell flow through his body. He had just finished shaking out his back foot when Fenris came charging into the kitchen. Fenris skidded to a stop and Anders let out a meow.

“Felix! Where are they?” Fenris spun in a circle.

Anders glanced around the kitchen and then meowed at Fenris.

“You have flour all over you. Were you helping?” Fenris chided Anders. “You should not help the person doing this.”

“Fenris? Is everything ok? Oh...look at that pot of stew. Who made it?” Hawke came rushing into the room, a dwarf and female elf behind her.

“I do not know. Somebody breaks in and cleans. Now they are cooking. I awoke healed.” Fenris opened his arms to encompass the room. “They left me stew!”

“I wish they’d break into my home,” the dwarf said. “Well hello, kitty.”

Anders tilted his head, taking in the dwarf. He twitched one ear and then sauntered over to sniff at the dwarf’s leg.

“Who’s this? You have a pet, broody?”

“Do not bother my cat, Varric,” Fenris said as he peered into the pot on the stove.

“Oh. Isn’t he pretty? Aren’t you pretty?” The female elf was cooing at Anders. He found himself scooped up into her arms and cuddled. “Oh. Who would hurt such a handsome cat?”

Anders _mrrped_ and nuzzled the elf’s chin.

“What is his name?”

“That is Felix. This is a good stew. And...what is that smell?” Fenris began poking at the stove.

“Felix. I am Merrill. I should bring you a treat. Maybe a fish? Would you like a fish?” Merrill was cooing at Anders.

“Kaffas, no fish in my house.”

“Fenris, open that door. Yes. Oh! Little cakes. How yummy.” Hawke had nudged Fenris out of the way. “Whoever is breaking in should keep doing this.”

Fenris huffed. “I do not like it.”

“Only you, Broody. Only you.” Varric chuckled. “Alright Daisy, let’s let Broody here explore his feast. Come by the tavern later. We’re playing cards.”

Merrill put Anders down and patted his head. “It was nice to meet you, Felix.”

Anders turned to stare at Fenris, ignoring the other people. Fenris was looking lost, a little frown on his face as he took in the food. Anders sighed and moved to rub against his legs.

“I do not know how to feel, Felix. I have never had anybody leave me a gift.”

Anders sat up and patted at Fenris’ leg. Fenris reached down to pick him up. “Should I just accept it? Should I be worried?”

Anders wished he could answer Fenris. Instead, he purred.

***

Anders didn’t leave his cat form for several days after the close call in the kitchen. Every day, he watched Fenris stalk around the mansion looking for intruders before retiring to his room. The more it went on, the more it ate at Anders.

He hadn’t meant to scare the elf, just help him. After all, Fenris was helping him, even if he didn’t know it. To see the level of uneasiness in Fenris made Anders feel guilty. He felt like he should have left as soon as it was clear he was safe.

So when Fenris came stalking into the bedroom, his entire body rigid with strain, Anders knew it was time to fess up. If Fenris wanted him to leave, well, he would leave. He hoped Fenris didn’t hurt him.

Fenris had taken a seat by the fire when Anders leapt off the bed, padding over to him and patting his ankle.

“Felix.” Fenris sighed heavily. “I cannot keep doing this. Was it one of Danarius’ friends trying to draw me out?”

Anders winced. He knew about Danarius from Fenris’ stories. He hadn’t thought that Fenris would equate his actions with his former master.

“Mayhaps it is time I find a new home. Or perhaps leave this city?” Fenris gazed at the fire. “I cannot take a cat with me if I leave.”

Anders huffed and went to stand near the fireplace. The last thing he wanted was for Fenris to leave his home. So he shoved down the fear and let his magic slowly seep out. Fenris’ markings reacted to the spell, starting to glow with a low light. Fenris’ eyes widened and he stood suddenly, backing away from Anders.

“Felix?”

Anders twitched as the spell finished and he rubbed at the back of his neck in agitation as his skin prickled. He gave Fenris a shy smile. “The name is actually Anders.”

“You. You are the one those templars were looking for!” Fenris gasped.

“Yeah. Cullen’s such a tin-head sometimes. I was pretty shocked they were able to even make it to your house. They didn’t have my phylactery, just followed the scent of magic,” Anders said sheepishly. “So…”

“You’ve been doing this.” Fenris snarled. “Is Anders even your real name? Who sent you? I will not go back, Mage.”

“Whoa! Hold on there. I’m just a mage who managed to get out of the Gallows. I’m just looking for some freedom.”

Fenris’ markings flared brighter and he flew across the room, the chair tipping over. Anders found himself pinned to the wall by one strong hand around his throat. “Tell me why I should not pull your heart out now, mage? You used magic on me. You slept in my bed. You could have told me. Should have told me. Instead you deceived me. Why?”

Anders yelped as Fenris tightened his grip. “I was afraid, alright? Plus, you were nice. You fed me, took care of me...I just wanted to return the favor.”

For a second, Anders thought Fenris would let him go. He saw the hint of confusion and a spark of something else in Fenris’ eyes. Anders let himself start to go lax, reaching up to touch Fenris’ wrist, when he was slammed against the wall.

“You will not touch me. And if you wish to live, you will keep your hands down while we go to the templars. Otherwise, you will die here…”

Anders didn’t wait for Fenris to finish this statement. The change slid over him and left him with claws and teeth. He bit, hard, at Fenris’ hand and felt himself fall to the ground. He took off for the stairs. He could hear Fenris behind him, the elf’s cursing filling the air.

He swerved into the front sitting room and with one leap, jumped through the broken glass of the front window - this time landing in the street. He didn’t look back as he ran.

Darktown really lived up to its name. A warren of dim tunnels and sewers, it was the place to disappear to. Anders found a nook to hide in while he pondered his next step. He was broke, hungry, tired, and cold. He could try his hand at walking to another city, but he now knew what was on the roads just outside of Kirkwall. He had no staff to help him cast with. He had no money to catch a ship or even buy food.

He shifted, settling himself back against the wall and drew his legs up. He had some hard decisions to make. He could turn himself in. He knew what was going to happen to him if he did. He knew that there was no way to avoid the Brand this time.

The thought of losing himself - his identity, his emotions, his very self, made his skin break out into gooseflesh. The templars were not an option. Death was more attractive than the Brand. And he did have his magic still. His ability to be a cat would keep him alive for a long time.

His thoughts were interrupted by a harsh cough and a groan. A young child was bent over, her hands clutching at her stomach as she coughed and retched. Her ribs were visible under her thin dirty rags. Next to her was a woman who was probably young, but looked ancient. She was patting at the girl’s back and murmuring.

Anders pushed himself up and slowly approached them. “I can help,” he whispered.

The woman looked up at him with sad eyes. “It’s the choke damp, Ser. There’s no help for it.”

“May I try?” he asked, reaching out with a hand that began to glow a soft blue. The woman’s eyes grew round and she nodded. Anders stroked his hand down the girl’s back, sinking healing magic into her. When he pulled away, the girl gave a heaving breath and stood.

“Mama?”

“Praise the Maker,” the woman breathed out. “Thank you. We have nothing of value, just some bread. I can pay you in bread.”

Anders looked down into the face of the child and smiled. “We can share it,” he said.

***

“Kitsa, the bandages need to be boiled. Can you start them?” Anders nodded at a large dented cauldron sitting over the fire in the corner of his clinic.

“Can do, Anders. Aerin brought some herbs. He and Caleb went hunting. They look like the right ones this time.” Kitsa gestured to the bundles on the rickety table.

“Good. We’re running low on potions. I think I have bottles still. Lirene came by with some chipped ones. When you have the bandages boiling, can you count the bottles?”

Kitsa grinned. “Course. I can count to thirty.”

“We’ll have to work on that, yes?” Anders smiled and looked up at the sound of the clinic door opening. His smile wavered at the sight of the group stepping in. “Kitsa. Go on. I’ll take care of the bandages.”

“Anders…”

“Kitsa, no matter what you hear, you run. You hear me? Go on.” Anders shoved her towards the small side door and stepped in front of the group to halt their progress. They were all armored and armed and he had nothing.

“Anders.” Fenris’ voice made him wince. “It would be you.”

“You know him, Fenris?” Hawke was looking between the two men. “Since when do you go to a mage healer?”

“He is the mage I told you about. The one masquerading as my cat.” Fenris’ gaze was sharp on Anders.

“Your cat is the mysterious Darktown Healer Meredith wants us to capture? That’s some story there, Broody.” Varric grinned. “Were you Felix?”

Anders cleared his throat. “Yes. It was a misunderstanding. I was simply trying to avoid capture again.”

“And now you are down here. Doing what?” Fenris stalked forward.

“Running a clinic? A successful one, too. We’ve stopped three outbreaks of plague and two choke damp incidents.” Anders backed up a bit.

“Look, we’re here because Meredith…”

Anders cut Hawke off. “I won’t go back. They’ll turn me Tranquil if I do. I can’t...I can’t do it. I’d pay you off but I don’t have any coin myself. Look, just...I’d rather die. I’d rather die than go back there.” Anders sagged. “I tried. I tried to do good. To use my magic for good and...I can’t anymore. I can’t run…”

Hawke held up her hands. “Nobody’s killing anybody. Meredith can kiss my ass. Merrill’s a mage and I’d never...I came down here to see if you needed help. That’s all.”

“Why did you bring Fenris, then? He hates me…”

Fenris glanced over at Hawke. “Leave us. I will not harm him.”

“I’ll see about some supplies for you, Blondie. And some guards. Maybe move you, too...you’ve caught the ear of some powerful types. I think I know a good spot.” Varric grinned.

“Oh. That space near home?” Merrill clapped.

“Daisy, you’re a dear.” Varric patted her hand.

Hawke hesitated and then nodded. “We’ll come back and discuss it later.”

Anders nodded, still wary. He watched as the group filed out, leaving him and Fenris alone. Anders chewed on his lower lip, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “So...what now?”

“I apologize,” Fenris muttered.

“I’m sorry. What?” Anders gaped.

“Hawke asked Knight-Captain Cullen about you. Made it sound like you had been at the Blooming Rose. His words were…” Fenris sighed. “A year in solitary?”

“He told her that?”

“He implied that they should have Branded you then. Hawke took offense to his tone.” A smile ghosted over Fenris’ lips. “I miss Felix…”

The words punched the air from Anders’ lungs. “You miss Felix?”

“He was...is...he is my friend.” Fenris frowned. “You are...it is hard. This, what happened, is hard. I was a slave. Magic is never going to be easily accepted.”

“I know. You told me. Well, you told Felix.”

“But I would like to try.” Fenris took a step forward. “To know the man who thought enough of me to try to help.”

Anders scratched at his chin. “Well. I mean, it does get lonely down here sometimes.”

“I have room…” Fenris took another step forward. “We could relocate you closer.”

“And if I was a cat for part of the evening?”

Fenris flushed, hope filling his face. “I would very much enjoy that.”

Anders finally relaxed. “I would too. Say...want me to cook dinner for you? After I’m done with my chores here, of course. You all made me dismiss my assistant early.”

“I would enjoy that, yes.” Fenris took a seat. “Would you like to hear about the job we did earlier this week? There was a dragon.”

“A dragon? Really? Did anybody get hurt?” Anders stirred the bandages as he listened.

“Mm...I may have been burned a bit. And there is a splinter from an arrow stuck in my shoulder.”

Anders shook his head. “Splinters are the worst. I’ll pull it out for you.”

Fenris huffed softly, settled down in the seat more comfortably, and then began to tell Anders about the dragon, the bandits, and the Bone Pit. And if Anders curled up next to him while he talked, well, there was nobody there to see it.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr as Warriormaggie. Come join me in the Pillow Fort!


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